World of the Hearing
by Japanese Butterfly
Summary: Antonio was born deaf, but it didn't stop him from hearing in his own way. Lovino was the one who actively reached out to him and stole his heart away. Now, Lovino is keeping his distance and Antonio has his own drama. What's the point in sound if he can't even hear Lovino's voice?


Antonio was born deaf. At least, he can't remember a time when sound infiltrated his life, but he didn't know anything different and didn't feel any loss; the silence wasn't so silent to him. There were the vibrations of his guitar, the booming feel of the floor as he danced, the warmth of Mama's smile, the petty arguments signed between him and his brother that filled him with a passionate anger eventually leading to tussling on the floor (and breaking Mama's things accidentally) as he tried to strangle the other. And then there was Lovino.

Lovino who was the one who showed him a world of sound, without even touching his ears. Lovino's sounds taught him that maybe there was something more than sign language, vibrations, and written messages.

There was Lovino's face as it morphed into soundless laughter; his eyes full of playful anger when Antonio teased him; and Lovino's blissful smile as he played violin, his lips more relaxed than turned upwards… Antonio wanted so desperately to hear what he was playing on the smooth instrument, but if he tried to feel the vibrations the way he could with his guitar he'd just get in the way of the other's playing.

Though, he did enjoy when Lovino played the piano. The reverberation of the loud notes could be felt so easily, and, with his body so tuned to the musical sounds offered, even the softer ones could be felt when he placed his hand on the edge of the ebony piano.

Antonio was also grateful for another kind of sound: the one Lovino made when let him kiss the other's neck and he could feel his skin shuddering in what he knew was a moan. Lovino told him he was quiet, and Antonio knew he was lucky to be the one who called Lovino his " _amante"_ because nobody else could pick up the light vibrations of the practically silent moans.

Lovino loved Antonio. He loved the way that his eyes would light up at the smallest things, and how, even in his own little world, he'd still love Lovino, despite all the bad things he signed to him (the fucker's shocked face when he called Antonio a bastard the first time had been so worth it). Now Lovino had to push the sweetest most lovable man away from him. If he had been normal—if he'd had _time_ —he would marry the tomato-eater. But he didn't even have a month left before he was going to die according to the people with the degrees. Lovino was stupid to actually believe in a happily ever after.

Antonio wasn't one to read the atmosphere, but even he knew something was off. Never had he had his kisses rejected this many times; at least by the _tenth_ attempt Lovi would give up and let him kiss him once. But Lovino wouldn't look at him, he wouldn't even sign, and that's what terrified Antonio.

He couldn't communicate with Lovi and he _needed_ to communicate. He panicked without communication and once he entered an attack, it was hard to get him breathing normally again.

He's frantic, but if he can't get Lovino to even look at him, there's nothing he can do but wait it out just like always…

Lovino doubts that Antonio even noticed the pathetic whimpers that were coming from his own damn mouth. But Lovino had to ignore it, even with the looks from his idiot bastard's friends that pleaded him to do something and explain himself; you can't just sign a heart's slow beat. Slower, and slower, until it would just give up on you. On _him._ How can one sign that their heart was giving up to the person it was meant to beat for? Antonio would be devastated, and Lovino couldn't, wouldn't face that.

Antonio could only stare mutely as his mama happily signed. He couldn't read lips, but Mama's lips always quirked up when she had a secret.

'Bebe, do you know how amazing this is? You have the chance to _hear!_ '

Surgery: a word that somehow meant Antonio would be happy, but without Lovino, what was the point of sound? What did he even do to hurt the other so badly that he was treated with silence?

A tap on his shoulder, and he turns, his brother signing.

'Hermano, what's the matter? I know you, what is going on in that empty space?'

Antonio only shakes his head, and turns away, going to his bedroom. He knows Miguel and Mama are excited, but he can't be until Lovi isn't mad at him anymore.

"Lovi, is your bag packed?" Feliciano tugs on his arm and he can only nod, but what do you pack when you're leaving your house for the last time? When you're going to die? He sure as hell wasn't sure.

"Have you told Toni?"

Lovino growled, turning his head to glare at him. He doesn't acknowledge the other's noticeable flinch, or how Feli takes a step back only to hit the wall. He grabs his brother's wrist and pulls their faces close together so he can threaten Feli like the mafia did. The mafia always got what they wanted, and he needed the same thing.

"No, and you can't tell him, ever."

Lovino walked away from Feliciano biting his lip. He knew that eventually Antonio would find out, but hopefully by then Lovino wouldn't be a nuisance to Antonio anymore. Maybe the idiot could even hang out more with Feli, the tomato bastard would probably like that.

Antonio doesn't understand why he has to stay at the hospital for tests for something that may or may not make him hear, but he complies because it makes Mama happy. He wants so badly to make her happy. After all she's been through, raising a deaf kid and his brother (A.K.A. the embodiment of no-self-control) she deserves this one thing to go right.

He also doesn't understand why at the hospital cafeteria Feli and his and Lovino's grandfather are sitting at a table there. Why would they be here?

He tugs on Miguel's arm. Knowing that none of them can sign, but having the desire to talk to them makes Antonio silently plead with his brother to go with him to their table.

Feliciano didn't think anyone deserved sadness; his _Nonno_ shouldn't have care for his two grandsons and their problems because nobody else would; Lovino didn't deserve to have health problems when he only wanted desperately for a future (he had once seen the texts his brother had sent to Antonio, the ones about a wedding, kids, and jobs...); Antonio didn't deserve to be deaf. But everyone, even he, was sad at some level…

"Feliciano?"

A baritone voice almost makes him jump and he turns to see Miguel and Antonio. He grins, greeting them both and Miguel translates. Lovino was usually the one to do that for Feli and Romulus (both unable to grasp sign language as easily and smoothly as Lovino did).

Feliciano asked the question before Antonio did, to put the truth off for a little while before he's forced to spill it.

"What are you doing here, Toni?"

Miguel forgets to translate, instantly telling the younger one the good news himself: "Antonio's getting surgery that could make him hear! Didn't Lovino tell you? That's pretty much the only reason Antonio showed interest in the first place… I thought you'd know."

Feliciano's face slowly falls and he is quiet before he can stop his throat from constricting more. After waving to regain Miguel and Feli's attention, Antonio asks, 'What are _you_ doing here?'

"I- I think, Antonio needs to see someone, now…"

Feliciano had seen too much sadness; Lovino just needed one last month of happiness. One last month (because it couldn't be less than that; Feliciano rejected that no matter what anyone said to him) of warmth, smiles, and tomato flavored kisses before it all goes straight to hell.

Antonio couldn't comprehend the comatose figure in the bed, even when all signs pointed to who it was. The auburn hair, the crazy curl, the ivory skin… The writing on the clipboard literally spelled it out:

L-O-V-I-N-O

He couldn't handle it, and could only stare in horror as Miguel translated what the sleeping Italian had refused to say: Lovino's heart was too slow to support him. That the steady beats Antonio had listened to religiously when he cuddled up to the Italian were steadily slowing down without Antonio even noticing the differences in rhythm.

Antonio couldn't stop his hands from shaking and instead of signing his sadness and the unfairness, and the "this can't be happening," he just bawled, ugly fat tears leaving him as he shook. He clung to Miguel, the closest one to him, fingers curling in Miguel's loose cotton shirt, staining it as his face hid in his brother's chest. For once, he was glad his brother was taller than him. It made it easier to curl up into him.

Miguel and Feliciano eventually left Antonio in Lovino's room, sitting in a stiff plastic chair, large tan hands tracing slender fingers. Calluses were found on both their hands from strings and vibrations, and he tried to trace everywhere, to memorize every line. When Antonio doesn't see any nurses (with their ever present frowns because they can't smile with their hair being pulled so tightly) walking by for a while, he struggled into the too small hospital bed, careful of the wires that were keeping Lovi alive and sleeping soundly.

Lovino is warm, and for a moment, Antonio can forget that his best friend, his lover, his _everything,_ doesn't have much longer to live. The feeling of fingers moving through his hair was a welcomed one. He sighs, nuzzling into the warm pillow only for his hair to be lightly tugged at; three sharp yanks in intervals mirroring a beat Antonio doesn't have a name for at the moment.

He knows he's supposed to wake up, Lovino always wakes him up that way. It makes it easier for him to realize what the other wants when it's done the same way for so long. He just doesn't want to leave Lovi's side, and that's what scares him about waking.

Blinking slowly he looks up, already realizing his warm pillow is Lovi's chest by the slow beating of Lovino's heart and when he glances into solemn hazel eyes he almost cries again. He knows yesterday wasn't just a nasty nightmare, it's something he's forced to live and Antonio's never been good with confrontation.

'I guess you know why I'm here, huh?'

He nods meekly, knowing it's true, knowing he can't stop it from being true and throwing a hissy fit about it won't prolong it any more.

'Feli told me...'

Lovino shakes his head, brushing Antonio's bangs away from forest eyes before he brings his hands back, signing again:

'Why are you here?'

Hazel eyes glimmer in what Antonio perceives as worry and he solemnly gives Lovino a grin. It's not fair to either party when one bears fantastic news and the other gets the short end of the stick. They both wanted nothing more than for the other to always get the good end of the deal.

'Someone helped Mama get the money for the surgery we had wanted to do... I might be able to hear again...'

According to Lovino's papers, by the time he can hear, Lovino will be dead.

'When is the surgery?'

Antonio sits up, making it easier to sign.

'In a couple weeks.'

By now, Lovino's life is measured in days, hours, minutes. Weeks have been out of the question and Antonio doesn't need a chart to know that.

Lovino's face falls, he knows just by looking in Toni's eyes that they both know that Lovino won't be able to make it to that day. All Lovino needs is a new heart, but there isn't one and Lovino made it clear that his new heart could not be from someone he knew; too many patients in similar condition, have died from the guilt that comes with accepting a heart from a loved one... He wanted a new heart so that he could live to the day where the tomato bastard could hear. The idiot would have liked that, he was always going on about how he wished he could hear the Italian's accent and what it would be like to not sign all the time, if it would be faster like people said…

Antonio distracts Lovino by signing again:

'I know...timing isn't very nice to us, but let's focus on you, alright?'

Lovino can only lean down and gently kiss him because with death quickly approaching he doesn't want to focus on anything but how nicely Antonio fits against him after all that thinking.

When the emergency alarm blares, Antonio doesn't notice, how could he? There are no flashing lights, no indicators that the one person he held closer than all the rest was being taken, and he was being notified by a sound that would never reach indicators were the nurses rushing in, pushing him out the bed where he was curled up, deep in sleep next to Lovino, their mouths were moving frantically, but he couldn't understand them at all.

He did understand the way Lovino jerked spastically, they were trying to restart his heart. A nurse pushed him out of the room, and he screamed.

By the time someone gets Miguel, Antonio can't breathe. Miguel takes too long talking to the nurses that by the time he approaches Toni, everything is black. No one before had even noticed he was having a panic attack. Their focus was on Lovino, not on some deaf kid.

He wakes up in his own room, Mama sitting next to him, asleep in the stiff hospital chair.

If he's here he doubts Lovino survived, he should be in Lovino's room, not here.

A motion catches his attention and he blankly stares at Miguel as he enters.

'Lovi?'

Miguel won't answer, he won't even look at Antonio's frantic hands, signing over and over.

'Lovi, Lovi, Lovi...'

He's in the ICU and his grandfather has been told that, chances are, his kid won't make it and will die before the week is over. He might as well have lost him because now he knows he has to watch as every day Lovino struggles to even breathe, struggles for just a moment more to live. No hope for a future.

Miguel says something to his mama, shaking her awake, and her eyes darken at Miguel's words before she finally looks at her son.

'I'm sorry, mi bebe. I'm so, so, sorry...'

Then it's Antonio's turn to look away from the hands that connected him to the world surrounding him. He couldn't bear to look anymore. Without Lovi, no matter what people say, the world is soundless…

The next few days Antonio just goes through the motions, feeling no sense of purpose as he goes through the tests. He could care less about being able to hear; there was no beauty in the sounds he was offered. The day comes faster than he expects and he can't help but be nervous as the doctor signs to him after the surgery.

'Tell me if you can hear anything.'

Miguel is beside him, holding tightly to his hand. Mama decided it would be right for Miguel to be the first voice Antonio heard. He was always the one to help his brother during school when he couldn't communicate with anyone, to protect him from bullies who couldn't understand; he was the best option.

Nobody mentioned the one who _really_ should have be doing this. The one who, since the first day of high school, made the effort to communicate with the reclusive Spaniard. His only friends before then being Gil' and Franny, his friends since birth, before the word "disability" even entered their vocabulary. But Lovino wasn't there. His heart just didn't beat long enough.

not used to actually talking to Antonio, Miguel hesitantly asks, "Can you hear me?"

Antonio nods, not knowing what exactly his brother is saying. He can't understand the words, only responding to the doctor's previous order, but both brothers are smiling widely.

Romulus and Feliciano are the first to visit Antonio after he leaves the hospital, their faces forced into smiles that makes Antonio's fake smile look real in comparison. Francis and Gilbert were too loud to come into the house, apparently, and even Miguel's annoying friend Arthur doesn't visit, so seeing the two remaining Vargas family members was a surprise in itself.

He doesn't understand words still, but he's learning, sounds becoming more familiar as Mama and Miguel slowly help him.

'What did Lovi sound like?'

Miguel has to translate again for them.

So far they had avoided Lovino entirely, but Miguel repeats Antonio's question with a quiet voice and Feliciano (who was doing most of the talking) becomes dead silent, the little light in his eyes vanishing into a dark, muddled brown.

Romulus leans in, and doesn't even try to hide behind a smiley mask as he stares at the young Spaniard.

"Picture my voice... as young as Feliciano's, as solemn as Miguel's... and as beautiful as your guitar."

Antonio practically memorized the phrase because he needed that voice, and that saying is as close as it gets.

"Is there anything you have that Antonio can use to hear Lovino's voice? Anything?" Miguel sounds desperate, but Lovi had been everything to Antonio.

Romulus' face darkens.

"We never did anything like that. All we have is pictures, and Antonio has as many of them as we do…"

Romulus makes it clear, the topic is closed. It's like Lovino didn't even exist to any of them. Vanished like the mafia he was known to research about when he wanted to seem like a badass.

Antonio is playing his guitar (a whole new experience with more than just its treasured vibrations) when Feliciano opens the door to his room, popping his head in and smiling broadly. This time, it's not forced and Antonio is confused as hell to even see the other.

"Look, I'm not going to take a lot of your time, just listen."

Then he paused. Using muddled hand motions—the sign for 'phone' and a gesture near his throat like something was coming up and out from it—to aid in explaining what he wanted, Feliciano hoped Antonio was catching on with his small knowledge of words and their short game of Charades.

He flips his phone out and quickly opens something as Antonio curiously watches.

A ringing sound almost makes him fall out of his desk chair and Feliciano giggles, signaling with his hand to be quiet and just… listen.

" _Ciao,_ so I'm obviously not here right now, no point in leaving a damn message because I'm most likely ignoring you and won't answer, especially you, Feliciano. And if it's you, tomato bastard... You can't even hear me so why are you always calling? Just text me, idiot."

The message ends and Feliciano turns it off. Lovino's voice, even through a phone, sounds exactly like Romulus said it would. His voice but young like Feliciano's, solemn like Miguel's, and even more beautiful than any guitar.

"I know it's only 30 seconds, but Nonno is turning off _fratello's_ phone and I thought you should hear Lovino's voice at least once."

Antonio already longs to hear it again, and again, and maybe to have it put on loop, forever in the back of his head, but Feliciano is already out the door before he can ask, and calling Lovino on his phone would just upset Mama when she looks at the phone bill later.

The day before he returns to school Romulus visits, CD in hand. He doesn't even explain, and just thrusts it in Antonio's hand. Romulus storms off before he can be asked what it is. In messy but familiar handwriting are the words "Antonio's favorites"

Antonio flips it over and he's grinning at the lists . It was a compilation of the songs he always chose for Lovino to play; they were his favorites. The vibrations had always made Antonio smile and beg Lovino to play them again and again. The names of the piano and even violin pieces listed alone almost bring him to tears. But Antonio needs clear eyes to race to his room and turn on the laptop, burning the songs onto it; he makes copies everywhere, so he'll never lose the music because it's not just the songs Lovino used to play, but it's _Lovi's playing._ The feeling couldn't be emulated by any other musician; it only takes a few second of listening for Antonio to recognize. He didn't even have to be a genius for him to figure something out for once.

The first day back and the teachers smile and welcome him as if nothing is different, and they don't dare question about the headphones covering his ears, or how he refuses to talk. Not even Gilbert and Francis, who haven't seen him for months, dare take Antonio's headphones away from him and just sign to their best friend, who seems worse for wear. It's best not to poke the bear, especially when you can tell it's made out of pottery with cracks creating a spiderweb on the surface. One vibration and it could just...shatter.

The whole day Antonio is in a trance, the worse classes are the ones Lovi used to be in and he can't even visit his locker. Lovino's locker is next to his. Isn't loss supposed to get easier over time? It doesn't seem to get anything but harder.

The second day back during lunch is when the routine changes, Roderich confronts him right before the lunch period starts, taking him by his collar and dragging him to the music room, setting him down on the piano bench.

"Play."

Antonio stubbornly glares at Roderich. This is a stuffy instrument, he won't play anything on it. He hates being able to understand Roderich. He wants to go back to a soundless world, but Miguel insisted on helping Antonio learn and his mother dragged him every day to therapy.

"Play, for God's sake, play! Listen to me, Antonio!"

The Austrian has lost it for sure, but when his brown eyes soften when Antonio again refuses he sits next to Antonio on the piano bench, almost defeated in a sense. It is like because Antonio won't try, Roderich himself has lost. Roderich hadn't lost Elizaveta, he hasn't had to see the signs that stated that the whole reason you lived, the person who could make you smile the brightest, was never going to be by your side again.

"All you have, is his music... This was his favorite instrument he told me, because unlike his violin, he could share it with you..."

Roderich's pale fingers brushed the keys in a too tender, too loving way and Antonio listened, eyes staring into his lap.

"He was a prodigy, and he would have surpassed me one day if he had more time to practice."

Antonio doesn't want to hear it, what could have been, what won't happen, but he can't turn away from the words that seem to twist deeper into him. Lovino always called him a masochist.

"He wouldn't want you to live like this… so empty."

Roderich's calmer tone bring Antonio into a haze of enragement.

 _Don't tell me what Lovino wants, don't act like this to me. How would you know? How would you know! It's not like you spent every moment with him, or helped out when he was sick, or gave him kisses until he fell asleep. That was my job and I can't even do that anymore._

"You know, he was my rival in- ANTONIO!"

Why does Antonio's world always fade into black? He'd rather it be red like Lovino's blush or tomatoes.

"He can't keep living like this, Romulus. It's killing him!"

"Well you can't seriously think we should tell him the truth, Isabella."

" _Fratello_ wouldn't-"

" _Callate,_ Antonio will-"

"Go check on your brother and leave us alone, Miguel. Go with him, Feliciano"

"But fratello is-"

"You can't expect us to just keep secrets from him. He thinks he's _dead!_ "

"Ve~ maybe we could-"

"Chances are he will be soon so why give false hope to the boy?"

"HEY!"

"..."

"..."

"Maybe you should just ask fratello what he wants?"

Antonio's eyes open faintly to find he's in a hospital bed, again. This time Miguel is at his side, and he smiles at his brother. Antonio can't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes and the way Miguel slouches in his chair.

'Sorry if I kept you up.'

Miguel shakes his head, but Antonio notices the pain Miguel tries to hide when Antonio signs. Antonio hasn't ever said anything, but he can't help it. He wants his first words to have meaning. So far, nothing has had anything close to meaning.

'What happened to me?'

Miguel straightens up and his voice is scratchy, but Antonio intently listens as if the bags under Miguel's eyes and the redness was an illusion, they were kids again, just telling stories to each other. Just like old times, nothing was real, it was all in their heads.

"You fainted, apparently from lack of sleep and nutrition."

Antonio frowns, that's usually not enough to be in a hospital, but as he moves to get up, a tug on his arm makes it clear he isn't going anywhere. Not with an iv drip connected to him.

"Tell me, _irmão_... Have you been eating right?"

Antonio can only shrug. Food just doesn't look good anymore. Not when Lovino was the best chef ever (even Feli couldn't beat his cooking), loved food and shared Nonno's tomato garden with Antonio (having Antonio do most of the actual gardening). It was too painful to deal with.

A nurse comes in before Miguel can ask anything else and before Antonio can even sign anything, a needle is pricked into Antonio's arms and he goes back into blackness.

 _Something is on my feet,_ is the first thought Antonio had when he comes too again. He should be thinking of Mama, Miguel, Lovino, even Feliciano. The people that matter should be the first thing on his mind, but something heavy is on top of his feet and before he can address it, someone shakes his shoulder, distracting him for a moment.

"Antonio, it's time to eat."

He groans. Food seems like such a chore and he's not even hungry. The room is so bright Antonio can't open his eyes but he's so distracted by this weight, lifting off of his feet and causing the bed to shift he doesn't even think of opening them.

"Antonio," his shoulder is shaken again, "you need to eat."

Fed up, he slaps lazily at Miguel's hand.

"Antonio, _mi bebe,_ listen to your brother."

Antonio huffs, bringing his hands up to sign lazily:

'No.'

He doesn't want to eat, but a knocking on the door and the smell of Italian food gets his attention; Antonio turns his head towards the smell trying to get his eyes to open.

"Ve~ Nonno and I bring gifts!"

Gifts of heavenly food… None of that hospital crap.

Antonio's eyes slowly flickered open as a round container is placed on his stomach, but he immediately close them. Great, even if wanted he couldn't bring the food up to his mouth.

Signing blindly he states his distaste. 'I would eat if the hospitals weren't so bright.'

Someone ruffles his hair.

"Open wide, irmão. I'll feed you."

Antonio's hand shows Miguel the universal sign for 'f-you' and he laughs. "Then just open your eyes! Trust me, you'll want to."

 _Just to see some pasta and tomatoes that could be fed to me with the lights off?_

With a displeased groan, Antonio's eyes blink again, and he squints until white walls and bright light no longer irritate his eyes. He makes out the colors then the shapes around the room, noticing that the weight at the foot of his bed is some _one._ As Antonio's eyes focus they widen: auburn hair, the crazy curl, and the ivory skin...

He practically breathes out the word, "Lovi..."

It's simple to understand, really: I'm going to die. New heart or not, I guess it didn't fucking matter; my body was weaker than they thought and the surgery took too much of a toll. It hurts because I honestly expected either to live or die in surgery, not this. This is long, and I'm just waiting for it to end without even knowing when it is. Nonno watches me and he never leaves. I can't get any peace because the nurses keep checking on me every ten minutes and Feliciano acts like I've already kicked the bucket.

Nobody will tell me about Tonio. It's frustrating when Feliciano will just shake his head and Nonno will get this look that stops me from asking again…but, hell, I'm dying and my only wish is to know that he's going to be able to fucking cope. I feel so bad for not telling him like I should've and all I want is to see his green eyes light up again, to feel his feather-soft curls between my fingers again and to watch his determined face as he struggles to tune his guitar. I had yet to play with him; I couldn't bring myself to do it before if only one of us was able to hear how beautiful it sounds.

Once (when I was doped-up on some shit-ass pain killers), I thought I saw Antonio's Mama talking to Nonno near the door of the room I'm in, but it's hazy and I don't give too much of a fuck to figure it out.

Feli talks to me though. It's annoying at times.

"Fratello, you seem to be feeling a little better, you're looking less pale too, which is good. Maybe we can talk to one of the pretty nurses and get you outside, I know you'd like being out of here and it's pretty outside. I saw a cat yesterday and it looked kinda like me, it had a curl and everything, but it ran when I walked up to it and I think it was screaming. Can cats scream? It sounded like a scream-"

"Yowl. Cats yowl, Feliciano…"

That's basically how it goes.

One day when I was a bit more lucid (the _bella_ nurse gave me less painkillers so I'm NOT a zombie, yay), Nonno came in, his face set in an even bigger frown than usual.

" _Bambino,_ you know how the nurses told me and your fratello that they were uncertain of how much longer you have to live?"

That topic had been taboo with Nonno, but he pulls a chair closer to the bed, sitting right next to me with a grim face. I nod.

"Well," his leather hand reached for mine and I held it lightly, "something bad happened to Antonio recently. We- we thought it had been better not to tell him you were alive, so as to not give him false hope…"

I froze. No, no, Antonio must be living in hell right now! ...If he was still alive. If I lost him, I don't even know what _I'd_ do. What the fuck were they thinking? Who was the idiot who thought this was okay because this is never okay.

"Antonio fainted recently because of malnutrition and sleep deprivation, and the doctors are keeping him in the hospital until he gets his weight up and to do some tests, they believe he might have mild depression."

" _Mild_ depression?" I burst out as strongly as I could, "Nonno, Antonio has been thrust into a world where sound is the most important thing in society and is supposed to adapt when he's used to his other senses being enough. Add to that the fact that he thinks I'm _dead."_ I said before realizing what had to happen, "Take me to him, now."

"But, _bambino-_ "

"Now."


End file.
